


The Way You Look Tonight

by brilligspoons



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilligspoons/pseuds/brilligspoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Richard's too embarrassed to buy the damn thing himself, so much so, in fact, that he almost can't even bring himself to hand Cate the slip of paper with his measurements and approximate size scrawled across it. She smiles and doesn't comment, just stops by his house two days later with three large garment bags slung over her arm and two bottles of wine stashed in her purse.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way You Look Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> De-anoning from the kink meme. Prompt: _Crossdressing. Richard/any. With Richard getting off on every minute and being very embarrassed about it (and getting off on the embarrassment too), and his partner(s) completely undoing him with compliments._ ([full prompt and original fill comment thread here](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/4307.html?thread=7925715#t7925715))
> 
> Sigh.

Richard's too embarrassed to buy the damn thing himself, so much so, in fact, that he almost can't even bring himself to hand Cate the slip of paper with his measurements and approximate size scrawled across it. She smiles and doesn't comment, just stops by his house two days later with three large garment bags slung over her arm and two bottles of wine stashed in her purse. He tries on all the outfits she's brought while she pours them both healthy glasses and instructs him on how to properly attach various buckles and straps. Not too much later in the evening, though, he's flushed and flying high and _happy_ in a way he doesn't often feel. Cate sits sideways on the armchair in his bedroom, feet bare and crossed at the ankle, and her hand loosely grips an empty wineglass.

"Right," she says, slow and ever so slightly slurred, "give us a twirl, Armitage."

And so he spins around once, twice, before falling back on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling. "It's light," he says. "Feels light, I should say."

"A good kind of light?"

Richard thinks about the lace camisole he has on; the matching panties with silk accents hugging him in all the right and wrong ways; garter hooks holding up the sheer stockings, the nylon pulling at his hair in an oddly pleasant manner. The soft fabric of the dress covering it all slides over his body, touching his skin only in the one or two places where the camisole rides up. It's _physically_ light, yes, but the sensations all muddled together pull at something inside him. He tries to explain but stops when Cate waves away his failed attempts.

"You look lovely, you really do," she says, and the sincerity in her voice settles warm and deep somewhere inside his chest.

He sees her to the door an hour later, clad in his regular jeans and a plain shirt. He grabs her hand as she walks past him. "Thank you," he says, "for, you know. Everything."

Cate smiles and squeezes his fingers. "Get some sleep, Richard," she tells him. "I heard you have an early morning tomorrow."

She leaves, and Richard goes back up to his room and readies himself for bed. He imagines what it would be like to have the panties on underneath Thorin's tunic and armor. The next thing he knows, he's kneeling on the bathroom floor with a hand between his legs, pulling and stroking himself to climax. It doesn't take long, but he stays there after, panting against the cabinet door, until his knees start to ache and groan.

***

It becomes something of a relief to come home after long weeks of being on set and find the lacy underthings and dresses hanging in his closet, waiting for him to put them on and walk about the house for a few hours. Richard treats it like a reward - for being more open with his castmates when he'd rather hide or be silent, for delivering a solid performance, for not reacting much when Graham or James or Aidan (or anyone else, really - Richard's type tends to begin and end at _living, breathing human_ , and being in close quarters with this lot has taken its toll on his restraint) brush up against him. Cate's occasional presence when he's all done up at night helps him to feel as though it's _not_ a dirty secret, however. Not completely, anyway.

"I doubt this is the most sordid thing any of them could come up with," she says one night. "If they even suspect that you're hiding something, I bet they're thinking it's whips and chains, not lace and silk and women's underthings."

Richard shifts uncomfortably on the sofa. "I haven't given anything away, have I?" he asks, feeling heat creep up his spine to the back of his neck. His mind goes back to the first time he'd worn the clothes and the resulting desperation-fueled masturbation. He takes a large sip of wine and nearly chokes on it.

Cate rolls her eyes and gestures to the half-empty wine bottle on the table in front of him. He fills her glass and then tops off his, groaning when a few droplets splash out and onto the front of his dress. Cate hands him a salt shaker and a napkin wordlessly, and Richard reaffirms his decision to keep this between the two of them.

Not that it works out that way.

It's difficult to keep it secret in a way he hadn't expected. Richard isn't outgoing, not the way Martin and Aidan and Jed are, and he doesn't care to be the center of attention. He likes to listen to all of them, likes to watch the way they move around and about each other. It's enchanting and enthralling, and Richard is often caught staring at them.

"You've got that strange look on your face again, Richard," Graham says, glancing up from the revised script they're supposed to be examining before shooting starts. Richard jumps and reddens at the sound of his voice. "Your new lines aren't written on Aidan's arse, I promise you that."

"Wasn't staring," Richard mumbles. He turns a page and scans the words for Thorin's lines before realizing he has no idea what the previous page says. Graham chuckles.

"It's okay, you know," continues Graham. His voice is pitched lower than before, and it sends tingles up and down Richard's spine. "To want Aidan. Or whoever. You stare at a lot of people with that look on your face - the one that screams longing."

Richard bites down on the inside of his cheek and says nothing.

"I'm only saying."

He's saved from having to continue sitting next to Graham when Peter calls his name not a moment later. Later, he lies on the bed in his trailer and runs over Graham's words in his head, over and over again, and promises himself he'll be more careful about where his gaze falls in the future.

***

Richard turns down an invitation to join the cast and senior members of the crew for dinner and drinks one Friday evening, citing a frustrating and long week (completely true) and the beginning of what might turn into a nasty migraine ( _not_ true) as his excuses. He just wants the quiet of his house, is the thing. He needs a break from being on set and in character, and from - well, if he's being perfectly honest, from being himself as well. So he goes home and showers and rests for a bit before dressing again and going back downstairs to find something to eat.

He's cleaning the dishes and pans when the doorbell rings. It's late, almost eleven, and for a moment he considers ignoring whoever it is and just going back to bed. It rings again, and then a third time, and Richard glances over to where his mobile is sitting on the counter. It flashes a text notification, from Aidan. _It's Graham and me outside,_ it reads, _in the area, just want to say hello!_

"Fine, fine," Richard mutters.

He's swinging the door open when he realizes he's wearing one of the dresses, a dark blue number that Cate claims sets his eyes off perfectly, and not his usual jeans and shirt. There's a broken off _hello_ and then silence, and he closes his eyes, resisting the urge to shut the door in their faces. Richard feels a blush rise up from his chest and move into his neck and face.

"Well," Graham says, voice rougher and lower than normal, "hello, gorgeous."

He opens his eyes. Aidan's staring at him open-mouthed, but he's not laughing, which is more than Richard had really hoped for in the many outing scenarios with which his mind had provided him. Graham, on the other hand, is smiling, of all things, the angle of his lips all sharp and warm and _predatory_. Richard swallows hard against a sudden lump in his throat, feeling, he imagines, like a small rabbit would when staring down a hungry wolf. He can't think of anything to say to them and isn't entirely sure whether he wants to send them packing or invite them inside.

"This isn't Christmas, right?" Aidan asks. "Like, Christmas was ages ago."

Richard blinks. "Christmas was ages ago," he repeats slowly. "Why on earth -"

"Because I'm not really sure I've been a good enough boy for Santa to have brought me this." Aidan gestures at Richard's body. "Want to make sure it's not going to vanish before my eyes or anything."

"Perhaps we'd better come inside," Graham says, and then he's leading Richard away from the door and guiding him to the sofa with one hand pressed to the small of Richard's back. He hears Aidan shut the door and lock it, and a moment later they're sitting together on the sofa, Aidan and Graham on either side of him. Richard gives his attention entirely to the floor and wishes that it would swallow him whole before the situation can become even more awkward than it already is.

He should be so lucky. "Look," he says, "this isn't what you're thinking."

"That may be true," says Graham. "Don't you want to know, though? What we're thinking, I mean." Graham leans in, resting his elbow against the back cushion just to the side of Richard's head. "You might be surprised."

Richard fights the urge to fidget and brings his hands down to his knees, fisting the hem of his dress tightly with both. "It's not weird or anything," he says.

"Of course it's not," Aidan says. He takes hold of one of Richard's hands and brings it up to his lips, kissing his fingers softly. Richard's certain his head is about to burst under the force of his blush. "You're _beautiful_."

"So very, very lovely," Graham agrees, lightly trailing his knuckles down Richard's bare arm before capturing his other hand and kissing the back of it.

Richard shivers and tries to pull his hands back, but there's no easy give from either man. He makes an embarrassing sound in the back of his throat that has Graham chuckling against his ear, warm and breathy. It's not like he couldn't get up if he really wanted to, he knows this, but he's frozen - or maybe he's melting, he's not sure at this point.

"So," Graham says, "what are we thinking, then?"

"I've no idea," says Richard. Aidan rubs his thumb across Richard's palm, eliciting another full-body shiver. "I don't - I don't know how -"

"It's alright, Richard," Graham says. "This is something you like, yeah? How does it make you feel? Good?"

Richard thinks back to the first time he'd worn one of the dresses, remembers the relief and lightness, the feeling of being balanced for the first time in recent memory. He nods once, sharply, and Graham shifts until he's sitting almost behind him, Richard resting against his chest. Graham settles an arm around Richard's middle, rubbing circles gently into his belly. Aidan moves closer with a smile, still holding his hand. Richard sighs and finally starts to relax into their grip. The heat from his earlier embarrassment fades a little, replaced by the warmth of the two bodies surrounding him.

"That's it," Aidan murmurs, rubbing one of his thumbs against Richard's wrist. "You're safe, you're good. _So_ good."

Graham noses at the base of Richard's jaw and presses a kiss to the same spot. "Want to tell us more about it?"

Richard shakes his head. He takes a shuddering breath and presses back against Graham.

Aidan smiles at him. "Want us to keep touching you?"

Normally Richard would immediately decline such an offer. He's already come through them discovering his secret; he never once thought that would end with him snuggled into Graham's chest and allowing Aidan to pet him. But he's been trying to keep his attraction to his castmates under wraps for so long, and he's not entirely sure he can trust the offer they're making him. Still, it's tempting - beyond tempting, even - to take advantage of whatever _this_ is. He drums up some of the courage he'd found to talk to Cate about buying him dresses and lingerie and nods again, says, " _Please_."

"Like this," Aidan says, dipping a hand in between Richard's thighs. He traces the bare skin with his fingertips, up and down, moving higher and higher with every pass. The dress slips against the places where Aidan's fingers have already traveled, and Richard jumps, legs falling open as Graham's arms wrap around his chest from behind him. "There," Aidan continues, "that's not too terrible, right?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'terrible'," Richard says. Aidan grins at him, and then there's a finger tracing the outline of Richard's cock through the silk of his panties. A strangled gasp emerges from his throat. One of Graham's hands comes up and strokes his neck before cupping the underside of his jaw, just tight enough to let Richard know that he's not letting go anytime soon.

"Shush," Graham says, punctuating the command with a kiss right behind Richard's ear. "Just watch."

It's nigh on impossible to _just watch_ , and Graham knows it, the smug bastard. Graham takes control of both of Richard's hands when Aidan's touches become less teasing and more purposeful. The urge to run his fingers through Aidan's hair wars with the urge to get up and run and never stop, but he's paralyzed between the two of them and can only gasp when a hand runs up his leg to his hip and squeezes.

"Lift up your hips a moment, gorgeous," Aidan says, and when Richard complies he reaches under the dress and tugs his panties down to his knees.

Aidan moves them around until he's sitting behind Richard, arm to arm with Graham, and then both of them lift the dress up around Richard's waist. Graham licks a stripe up his neck as Aidan wets his own hand before taking hold of Richard's cock in a firm upward stroke. Richard gasps, and a moan catches in his throat. Aidan works him steadily until he's whimpering after every pass, mumbling praise about how good he's being, how wonderful he looks and feels, into his ear. Graham's hips shifts beneath Richard's, the movement slight but enough for Richard to tell that he's hard as stone. He realizes that his hands are free and immediately brings one up around the back of Graham's neck, and the other dives into Aidan's hair and _tugs_. Aidan breathes hard and shuddering against his neck.

"Close?" Graham asks. Richard whispers _yes_ and lets out a keening wail when Aidan speeds his hand up at the affirmation. He bucks up once, twice more, and then his body seemingly curls up into itself as he comes over Aidan's hand and the dress.

Richard momentarily forgets how to breathe. He's peripherally aware of Graham and Aidan pressing kisses against his lips and cheeks and hair, and he hears the words _beautiful,_ _magnificent,_ and _perfect_ , but they're muffled, as though his ears are stopped by heat and pleasure and comfort. He comes back to himself in a rush, and he turns his head and catches Aidan's lips before Graham grasps his chin to demand a kiss of his own. He feels the outline of Aidan's cock pressing insistently against his jeans.

"You two," he says, hiding his face in Graham's neck. "Do you - I want to -"

Graham shushes him again and says, "In time, lovely. We're not going anywhere."

"Just breathe," Aidan says, and Richard does.


End file.
